Return to The Afterlife Bar and Grille
by Relativity1953
Summary: Hey there folks! I don't know if you remember me... Olivier? Most folks just call me Olly. This fic will contain spoilers for S2, see chapter titles for specifics.
1. In My Time of Dying

Hey there folks! I don't know if you remember me... Olivier? Most folks just call me Olly. I'd like to welcome you to the grand re-opening of 'The Afterlife Bar and Grille'!

I had to close up shop for a little while due to lack of business, but we are once again up and running. Actually, I just got back from a little vacation myself. High point: my annual visit to Purgatory to see an old friend of mine. Yep, we meet once a year on common ground, usually play a little chess while we update one another on what's been going on in our lives.

I told Tessa, that's my friend's name, about the pub and how things had been going. I would have loved for her to visit, but Purgatory is as far south as she travels in the netherworld. Usually, she works the hospital circuit on Earth – kind of a travel agent for the humans. Only recently, she told me, she had been given some time off.

That's when I noticed she seemed a little more pale, a little thinner than usual. Poor girl looked tired. She explained that she had had a pretty bad day at work not too long ago – really shook her up. Seems she was having a tough time convincing her current client to make the trip. She had almost turned him around when a demon possessed her and used her powers to give the client a full recovery.

I don't know if you know this, but that's not how angels and demons are supposed to operate. In fact, its a big no-no for one group to possess another. And worse, to use her power in such a way? No wonder she was exhausted. Yes, she has that power, but she is not supposed to randomly dole it out – not without express permission from the higher ups.

I could tell the situation had been very emotional for her – to be used in such a way was beyond thinking. I offered her my support and asked if she knew who the demon was (because I have some friends, you see, and we don't take kindly to that sort of thing). But, she had no idea, only knew that he was powerful. Then she surprised me – told me that the worst part was that the demon was somehow then responsible for her client's father's death and that she was lucky she wasn't fired over the whole thing. After all, she said, the higher ups take the journeys of hunters very seriously.

Hunters? I asked her. Their name wouldn't happen to be Winchester, would it?

How did you know? she asked.

Well, folks, that's when I got the rest of the Winchesters' story. After the car accident, those humans were pretty banged up. It didn't take long for the youngest to be up and about, though, and his father soon followed. But, the elder son, now that boy was bad off. In fact, Tessa said that that boy had a one-way, all expenses paid ticket to the netherworld and she was to be his guide.

And you already know the rest. I'm guessing that the fella that possessed her was _the_ Demon. I mean, who else would take the chances that he did – obviously someone with a personal stake in the unwell-being of the Winchesters.

I didn't want to seem too heartless but I needed to get home. I had a feeling that the pub would be filled again soon if one brother was already healed and the other had suddenly made a full recovery. Tessa understood, though, and asked me to keep an ear open for any news of the Demon. Now, there are even more beings that will want to sit him down and have a little _chat_.

* * *

**(Author's Note)**

Here's a fun fact... I looked it up in a book of baby names: _Tessa_ means 'reaper' in Greek. Well, I thought it was cool, anyway.


	2. Everybody Loves a Clown

_Well, here we are again, eh. Its nice to see everyone tonight at our grand re-opening. I know I'm thrilled to be back... though you may feel a little different. But, let's see if we can't cheer some people up, huh? Let's get on with the first story! _(waits for applause to die down)_ What do you say... #7014..._

Hello, my name is... er, was Alonzo Papazy. But, most knew me as The Amazing Papazian, blind knife-thrower. Well, except for Titus, the Tiny Titan, who called me _Barry_ – though I don't know why. But, there were also some... unfortunate... people who knew me as the clown who tore them to pieces.

You see, I am a Rakshasa and I feed on human flesh. Its what I do. Sure, there are some Rakshasas who live in filth and feast on spoiled food, but... well, I just find that a little more than disgusting.

I have traveled all over the United States. It is easy when you work with a traveling circus. We only stay in one town for a week or two and then pack up and leave. It suits my needs just fine.

And, with my shape-changing abilities, it is not hard to mimic the eyes of a blind man. Knife-throwers are rare – blind knife-throwers are rarer still. Finding employment with a circus is not hard when you possess freakish skills.

What's more, circus folk, carnies – they are all so used to being outcasts that they willingly band together to form a sort of surrogate family. They are fiercely loyal and will defend their own, protect their own with all that they have. They can smell their own kind, feel it like another sense, and they don't take kindly to those who try and infiltrate their ranks.

Not that I had much to worry about. No, every circus I worked with – Cooger & Dark's Pandemonium, The Chiodo Brothers' Big Top, The Red Triangle Circus, Calloway's Carnival, Bunker Brothers' Circus, and now at Cooper's – I was accepted, got the _Gooble Gobble... One of Us_ seal of approval. That brotherhood pulled me out of a few sticky situations in the past. Oh, not that I was truly worried, but its always nice to know who your friends are.

I performed my act at the top of every hour, leaving me plenty of time to look over the buffet. No one spared me a glance as I walked through the crowd. After all, no one thought I could glance back. So, while they were playing their games, buying their hot dogs and cotton candy, I was taking stock. I had become particular in my tastes and felt I could look around until I found what I wanted:

- a child between the ages of 7 and 11 (old enough not to be frightened, trusting enough to let me in)

- accompanied by two adults (I don't care if they are the actual parents so long as they will be sleeping in the same room later on)

Then came the day when two fellas walked into my tent, one asking if I had seen Mr. Cooper. Well, I may not really be blind, but I could still smell the trouble pouring off of those two as if the sense was heightened. So, I told the guy off – did the whole 'enraged blind man' bit. You know: is that a blind joke? Have I _seen_ Cooper?

And better yet, in walks Titus asking if there's a problem and the guy puts his foot in his mouth again. _Just a little understanding_, he says. Well, Titus can get a bit testy at times and he honed in on that word: little. Started threatening with his cudgel right then and there.

I thought that, between the two of us, we scared the fellas off. No such luck. I happened upon the tactless guy at the fairgrounds, wearing a Cooper jacket, talking on his cell phone about human bones and EMF and what-not. When I confronted him, he gave me some rigmarole about how he and his brother were writing a book about ghosts or some nonsense. Well, not the ghost part – the 'writing a book' part was nonsense.

I decided not to call him on the lie, play it cool for the time being. After all, one more meal and I could lay low, be home free, no one would be the wiser – and, even if they were, they certainly couldn't prove anything.

I found the perfect target that day – perfect for the meal, perfect because it didn't give those boys any time to figure things out. But these guys... two days and I was wrong about them twice. Thought I was in the clear, I was on my way down the hallway to the main course, when out of nowhere comes the bigger guy. He grabbed the kid just in time for his brother to shoot me in the chest. However, the gun was filled with rock salt – it couldn't kill me but it sure did hurt like hell.

Now these two were really on my last nerve. Disrupting my life... interfering with my meal... not like I was going to need another one for the next couple decades. I needed to find a way to get them fired or something – anything to get them away. They were just too close. But, I'd never had such a problem before. Cops, I could deal with... but these guys...

I was trying to come up with a plan when the shorter fella comes up to me, asks me if I have a brass dagger. Kid didn't know it, but boy did he just show his hand to the wrong guy. Thinking quick as I led him to my office/quarters, I finally hit on the obvious solution. I need to be rid of these two guys; I need another two-course meal... two birds, one stone, as they say.

Told the kid to look in my trunk for a dagger that I knew he wouldn't find. Also knew what he _would_ find – my clown wig and costume. I saw the look on his face the instant he figured me out. Priceless. Also showed him a couple of my little tricks, namely my seeing eyes and my vanishing act. And, if that wasn't enough, I took a couple shots at him to keep him good and scared. Should of seen the relief when he finally got the door open, thinking he _got away_. Not too bright. I've been a professional knife thrower for years! If I wanted to hit him, I would have.

I followed the guys – yeah, the short one caught up with the tall one – to the fun house. Guess they thought they could trap me or something, but its funny how many tricks and secrets you get to see when you're _blind_. I already knew where all the trap doors were, and all the levers to operate them. I separated them but the smaller fella found his way to the bigger one again.

Yep, they were trouble. I had the advantage of being invisible, but I wanted to make sure of my edge. While the one worked on tearing apart the steam organ for whatever reason, I pinned the other to the wall with a couple of well placed knives. Now, I could deal with the big guy one-on-one.

Of course, I had already come to the conclusion that these two weren't like any of the typical couples I come across – you know, I tear into one while the other is frozen in fear, just waiting his or her turn to be next. What I didn't consider was that these two had a couple of tricks of their own.

I couldn't figure out why the immobilized guy turned up the fog – level the playing field, I guess. They couldn't see me so they tried to hide as well? Yeah, I only had a second or two to come up with that one because, suddenly, the one's calling out my location to the other. I was about to strike from behind, when the tall guy jams that broken off piece of pipe into my belly. And wouldn't you know it? Brass.

Well, the show may go on folks, but after that... I don't.


	3. Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things

_Wow! This sure is just like old times! Thanks for the great story Papazy – Pennywise has nothing on you man, honestly. Now, who's next? Let's see here... wait, I don't understand. #7020.3 ?_

Yes, that's me.

_I'm afraid I don't get it. What's with the **.3**?_

Well, that's how I filled out the card... since there are three of us. I'm pretty sure that I'm the one you'll want to talk to, though.

_OK... so who **are** you? **All** of you._

We are Angela Mason-

_We? What, all three of you?_

Yes, if you'll just let me explain...

_Well, all right. This one proves to be interesting folks._

For simplicity's sake, let's call the _me_ still at the table on the right 'Angel' and the one on the left looking a bit like bloody Swiss cheese 'Angie'. Angel was a good girl with a good life...

**Good life? Ha!** (Angie)

**It was!** (Angel, whining)

Girls, please. As I was saying, she was a good person. Angel went to school, had a boyfriend, a caring roommate, and a great best friend. She had a loving father nearby and a good job. Everything was fine until she caught her boyfriend in bed with another girl. Then, she did what any of us would do – she turned to her best friend in her time of need.

Unfortunately, her boyfriend knew about the best friend too, and went to try and talk with Angel. Only she wasn't ready to face him. She fled, but he called her on her cell phone. Already plenty distressed, the apologies of the cheating boyfriend only upset her more. To make a long story short, Angel drove off the road, smacked into a wall, and died instantly.

That's where Angie comes in-

_Whoa, whoa, whoa. Now you've lost me again._

Well, its simple. Angel was a bit naive in life. Case in point: she had no idea that her best friend Neil had a monster crush on her. Now, Neil is her father's teaching assistant, and Dr. Mason teaches all sorts of mythology courses – wasn't hard for Neil to find the appropriate symbols to use in a demonic necromancy ritual. So, Neil decides to bring his best friend and secret love back to life.

Only, instead of Angel, she's now Angie. Before you even ask Olly, let me just explain... The part of Angela Mason that made her _Angela Mason _– call it her soul or spirit or whatever – did not make the return trip. She may have seemed the same at first, but the whole 'life to death and back again' journey took its toll.

Angie had all the memories that Angel had, only she now realized Neil's desire for her – after all, bringing someone back from the dead is a pretty strong hint. And, she seemed content to stay with Neil... in the beginning. But, while Angel was naive and forgiving, Angie was manipulative and vengeful.

First on her agenda: punish those who hurt her. She started with Matt-

**But I loved him!** (Angel, crying)

**No you didn't. He cheated on you!** (Angie)

Ahem! Like I was saying, she snuck out of Neil's place, went over to see Matt, and-

**Slashed the bastard's throat.** (Angie, proudly)

Neil was broken up about what happened, but was in denial. He honestly didn't want to believe that Angela could do such a thing. After all, if she did, he was responsible because he brought her back.

But, here's where things start to get a little weird... Angie overhears Neil at the front door trying to get rid of a couple of 'grief counselors' sent by the school. She wasn't aware of any such services but felt vindicated when Neil told them that it was guilt rather than grief that caused Matt's _suicide_. Soon after, she thanked Neil for his love and protection-

**And the love-sick puppy just ate it up.** (Angie)

**Hey! Neil's a good guy!** (Angel)

Anyway! Angie still has one more score to settle. It takes two to horizontally tango, after all. So, she goes home to confront her sweet little ex-roommate Lindsey.

**Back-stabbing, boyfriend-stealing, bitc-** (Angie)

**Yeah, actually that one really did make me angry.** (Angel)

But, Lindsey was a bit more of a fighter than Matt, wasn't she?

**Yes** (Angie and Angel, obstinately)

Angie wasn't expecting Lindsey to kick back; nor was she expecting to land on her own weapon. Of course it was Lindsey who got the shock of her life when Angie's eyes opened and she pulled the scissors from her chest. She was about to strike when two guys burst in; one shot her several times and she was forced to retreat.

She met up with Neil in his office at the college. But, before she could speak with him, the same two guys come bursting in again. As she hid in his closet, she recognized their voices as those of the 'grief counselors'.

**Yeah right – grief counselors my undead eye! They started talking to Neil about rituals and putting me back in my grave!** (Angie)

So, Angie asked Neil to help her _get rid_ of the two guys so that they could be together as Neil wanted. Neil agreed a little too quickly – telling Angie that he would go get the car.

**Even _I_ wouldn't have fallen for that.** (Angel)

**Yeah, Neil had to go.** (Angie)

It was up to Angie now to get rid of those two on her own. She found them lighting candles around her grave. One of the guys must have heard her because he started walking in her direction. When he was far enough away from the other one, Angie crept up behind him. Only, he turned around and pointed a gun at her.

Angie turned on the innocent doe-eyes, asking the guy to help her.

**It was very convincing actually.** (Angel, sincerely)

**Thank you.** (Angie, appreciative)

Just when she thought it had worked, he shot her smack in the middle of her forehead. As you can guess, a girl doesn't really take too kindly to that sort of thing. So, the chase was on. She caught up to him as they reached her grave once more. Ready to tear his head from his neck... the other guy comes out shooting. She fell into her grave and, if all of the new holes in her body weren't enough, the second guy goes all Errol Flynn and stabs her through the chest with a sword.

-...-

_That's it? Um, I understand the Angel and Angie part – but where do you fit in?_

Well, every Eve White (nods at Angel) and Eve Black (at Angie) needs their Jane. Let me put it this way: Angel was the _good_ living, Angie was the _bad_ undead, and I am just the _dead_.

_So, it sounds to me like (at least) Angel doesn't belong here..._

Well, that's the thing about split-personas – we tend to stick together until the end. Angel's final destination is up north, Angie will be staying here, but me – well, they haven't decided what to do with me yet. So, until the powers that be make their judgment, we're stuck together somewhere in the middle. I guess we'll hang around here for awhile and listen to some others' stories.


	4. Simon Said

_Well, I have to hand it to you girls – that _**was**_ a great story. Now, usually I stick to the policy of one to two drinks per story... you know, depending on the details and the like. But, I think we will make an exception for you girls._

_Hey, Dion, set these lovely young ladies up with a drink each. Wait a minute. Let me guess... I'm usually pretty good at this. I'm thinking a Bloody Mary for Angie_ (**as long as the 'bloody' doesn't overpower the Vodka**), _a Virgin Mary for Angel _(**yes, please, I've never cared much for Vodka**),_ and... hmm... Now, Angela, I'm getting a little bit of a salty-spicy vibe from you. How 'bout we try you out with a Mile High Mary? Basically, its a Bloody Mary – but its topped off with a rim of salt and paprika._

_Oh, and Ramsay – make the girls up one of your tasty appetizer trios. You'll love this, ladies – Ramsay's own recipes for his signature bruschetta, mini vegetable egg rolls, and hot and spicy chicken wings. Its truly an unbelievable combination._

_Now, where is #7032? Has anyone seen an angel-faced kid... Oh, there you are._

Oh, eh, hey... um... I don't belong here.

_Excuse me?_

Um... I said, I don't belong here. Its OK for you to just open up that door and let me walk on out of here. Its all going to be OK.

_Yeah, um, kid? That's real cute and all, but Obi-Wan you're not. Besides, Jedi mind tricks don't really work so well down here. So, you can either go up there on that stage and tell us all a story, then get yourself a nice drink, or you can go ahead and leave any time, and begin your journey further south. I heard Charon, your relocation agent, found you a nice condo overlooking the Lake of Fire..._

So, my story... Yeah. Hey everybody. My name's Anson Williams – and please, no Potsie jokes; the woman who named me was apparently a bit of a 'Happy Days' fanatic. Other than that, I guess you could say I had a pretty normal life. Well, if your definition of 'normal' includes one painful disappointment after another, each one worse than the last.

My story begins with abandonment. When I was born, I was promptly given up for adoption by a young and unwed mother who obviously couldn't handle being tied down with a kid. She didn't even stick around long enough to give me a name. One of the nurses filled out my birth certificate. I guess the same thing happened with a baby girl that evening – as I still have a photo of myself in the nursery right next to 'Cindy Williams'. Like I said, woman must have been a big fan.

Anyway, I went from one foster home to another. I never really fit in anywhere. None of the families were ever right – I just had trouble getting along with everyone. I figured that, when I found the right family, I would know.

It was the same at school. I went to my fair share of'em. There was just always something (or someone) missing. Of course, it didn't really help me that I was really smart, pretty small, and had a baby face. Not a great combination when growing up if you don't have friends to watch your back.

It wasn't until my senior year in high school that my life took an unexpected turn in the right direction. There were two completely unrelated happenings that changed my life forever. For the first, I remember that I was called into the dean's office right after midterms. It seemed that, in three out of six of my exams, I had the exact same answers (including the essays) as another student – Tod Zimmer. The same Tod Zimmer who was not only class valedictorian, not only star forward of the basketball team (and therefore a foot taller than me), but also sat diagonally behind (and to the right) of me in those three out of six classes.

Now, the fact that we sat alphabetically so that he was in the perfect position to look at my answer sheet was the only thing I had in my favor. Other than that, the students liked Tod; the teachers liked Tod; heck even the dean liked Tod. Everyone in town knew him, loved him. And then there was me – new to the town, new to the school, and with no possible way to bring the basketball team to victory for the fifth year in a row.

Neither of us had been in any trouble before (but that was partly due to my being new and the faculty's insistence on looking the other way where athletes were concerned) but, because of the school's three strikes rule and the fact that the charge was cheating on three midterms, whoever was found guilty would be expelled from school.

Needless to say, I was worried. The dean, in all of his creative genius, decided to have a sort of a trial since neither of us were backing down from our claims of innocence. It was awful. Tod's side of the room was packed with students, all with _evidence_ of Tod's previous academic career and his lack of disciplinary problems. There was a senior girl who had _somehow_ gotten a hold of my transcripts to reveal my up-and-down grades and list how many demerits I received from each school I had attended.

It was looking really bad. I sat at my table, watching all their smug faces... looked behind me to find only the curious janitor, who had wandered in from mopping the halls. And I snapped. Before the dean could bring his ridiculous little gavel down, I shot out of my seat and turned to Tod, and demanded that he tell the truth.

Then, it was almost like watching a movie. The giggles of the girls sitting with Tod were muffled by the sound of my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. The world seemed to slow down as I felt my energy pulse out of me, and the next thing I knew, Tod was standing as well. He began talking – confessing. How he hadn't done his own homework since the sixth grade; how he hadn't passed a test without looking at someone else's paper or using a cheat sheet since fourth grade; how he didn't even take one of his exams because he was sleeping with the teacher... who was also (one of) his girlfriend's mother.

Everyone had frozen while Tod continued to talk. The students were stunned; the teachers were shocked; the dean's eyes were as wide as they could be; the janitor had dropped his mop; Tod had tears streaming down his face but he didn't stop. I didn't know how I did it, but I somehow knew that I had caused Tod's confession. It was all I could do to keep from laughing hysterically.

I practiced and practiced my new-found talent. Some nights I concentrated so hard that I gave myself a nosebleed, but that didn't stop me. I was getting better.

The second life-changing event happened towards the end of the school year. One of my teachers, a new guy named Goldaugen, had given us the assignment to find out about our families. We were not only to create family trees, but delve into where we came from and who we really were. He offered to give me extra help since mine would be the most challenging.

With my new abilities, I had pretty much figured out how to get out of assignments and tests that I didn't feel were necessary, but this project seemed intriguing. And Mr. Goldaugen was a big help. Together we found out where I was born – the specific hospital – my birth mother's name and even the doctor who delivered me and oversaw my adoption.

One day, I was sitting alone in the computer lab in the basement of the library, waiting for Mr. Goldaugen, when I hear the door open behind me. I had assumed it was my teacher, but was surprised to find Tod staring at me as he locked the door behind him. He was furious with me – blaming me for ruining his life. And worse, he had a particularly crazy look in his eyes.

I was scared for only a moment – after all, I could talk him out of anything he was planning. Even as he pulled the switchblade from his pocket, I was confident that I would be OK. Except, he wasn't calming down, wasn't rational at all. I started to panic as he got closer, cornering me and standing directly in my path to the exit.

_**Sometimes,**_ came a deep but quiet voice from behind Tod, **_you need to push a little harder when a person is... unstable._**

It was Mr. Goldaugen. I didn't know how he got into the lab since the door was locked – in fact, the door was still closed and locked. And Tod didn't even seem to hear him. But the strangest thing was that Mr. Goldaugen looked different. It was his eyes – instead of their normal brown, they were like two glowing yellow marbles.

**_He's not hearing you,_** he continued as if reading my thoughts. **_Try and use only your mind... without words._**

_Woah, woah, wait a minute there kid. Did you just say this guy had yellow eyes?_

Well, yes... but that's not the point. I just noticed it, is all. See, he told me I was special and how to use my powers and...

_Kid, I know you're new around here so let me fill you in. We all know that the folks in these parts don't care much for the Winchesters – after all, they're the reason this pub is so packed. But, do you know who folks here hate even more than the hunters?_

God?

_Ha, ha... no kid, not God. Folks here are pretty teed off at the yellow-eyed demon -_

What? But he's great! He helped me find my brother...

- grumbles from the crowd -

No, no – that's a good thing... he helped me find my **twin** brother... the yellow-eyed guy's great...

- crowd boos and hisses and throws things until Anson has left the stage -

_I tried to warn you, kid._


	5. No Exit Usual Suspects

_Well folks... you know how I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like there's been a celebrity termination up north. I'm afraid to say that one of our own – Dr. H.H. Holmes – has been confined, encased really, in a secluded section of the sewer system in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania._

_The doctor, born Herman Webster Mudgett, was born on May 16, 1861 – that's A.D. He began his illustrious career at an early age, beginning with lying and cheating, some stealing. He worked his way up to bigamy, fraud, kidnapping, torture, and murder._

_Because he was quite creative and an expert beguiler, no one truly knows how many people fell victim to Holmes and his slaughterhouse known as "The Castle". The death toll has been estimated anywhere from 20 to 100 fatalities; there are a few who credit him with up to 230 kills. However, the man only confessed to 27 murders (plus six more attempts), and of those only nine were confirmed._

_Holmes was sent to Moyamensing prison after his trial and then hanged on May 7, 1896 in Philadelphia. He left behind one daughter, three wives, and a deceased mistress (who was allegedly one of his victims)._

_Of course, as you all know, Holmes decided to stick around after his death. Then, when the prison was torn down in 1963, he began his spree again – though much slower this time around. In fact, there were only six known deaths in 80 years, and two more attempts at the end._

_One of those attempts happened to be the daughter of a hunter, and had with her the Winchester boys as backup. They managed to trap Holmes inside a circle of salt and then filled in the area with cement – making sure the spirit was good and stuck._

_Bit of a shame, too – I was hoping to get an autograph._

oo0oo

_Now that the unpleasantness has been taken care of... how about another story? #7083._

A cheekier cab leers on my mill. Her beau ices me...

_I... I'm sorry, honey. We can't understand you. The translator must be off. There's a switch on the right side of the microphone there, Dana._

Sit flatter home! Is my mane – not Dana! Ah, that's better. Sorry, I thought the anagrams thing would have worn off by now.

Anyway, what I said was: Hello, my name is **Claire Becker**. And, I'm really only here to make sure that he (nods head to her left) gets here. Apparently, my crimes weren't bad enough to warrant a stay here – but I was assigned to some community service. First, I was a death omen. Now, I guess I'm a chauffeur.

_Is that necessary?_

Well, with this one (nods to her left again) it is. He's a bit slippery. Tried once already to sneak on the north-bound train. But, now that he's here, my community service is complete.

(walks away from microphone)

Tunk ahoy. Ego body.

_Well, you're certainly welcome – and thank _you_. Bye bye._

_Ah, so you must be Pete. Not to worry there, sport. I hear a cop going to jail doesn't have much of a chance top-side, but we're all equals here. Well, all of you once-humans are, anyway. Demons, like myself, are definitely a higher rank._

OK, OK, yeah, contrary to what you _people_ might think, cops don't exactly start out with the intension of going bad. In fact, I know a lot of good cops up there. Hell, used to be one myself.

Going into the academy, you know that there are dangers involved in the job. Really, everyone knows there're dangers. But, the chance to do some real good in the world over-shadows that. At least in the beginning.

See, I used to work Narcotics. Every bust left me with a great feeling – I was a part of the team that kept that crap off the streets, out of the hands of children, or people who had children in their care. I just felt like I was making a difference. But, all the good feelings were slowly getting... not as good as the last.

See, I started feeling more like this was a job instead of a calling or a mission or whatever. There I was, working my butt off, and it seemed like no one really cared. I mean, even my family was more proud of my brother – the construction worker – than of me. All ever I heard was what a good thing he was doing, building houses for the less fortunate. And, of course, making good money while doing it.

And me? Well, I was living in a one-room apartment and still barely making ends meet.

Then, one day I'm in on a heroin bust and, as I'm cuffing the guy, he starts trying to bribe me – right in front of my partner, no less. He's telling me how we could split the money he'd make from the product, he'd even give me of the drugs free-of-charge. I lost it. I started to rough the guy up a bit – would have been worse if my partner, Diana, hadn't been there to stop me.

But, as we were leading the guy out, I couldn't help but look around at his place. For such a scumbag, he really had a lot of nice stuff. And top of the line, too. His home? It was big and so nice...

When I found myself sitting in my apartment a week later with some of the heroin from lock-up, I only had the vaguest memory of taking it.

I might have been a little overwhelmed, but I'm not stupid. I made myself a plan. First, I got out of Narcotics – I didn't want to do this again and working around all that money-waiting-to-be-made, I knew it would be too much of a temptation. And I'm not greedy.

After I put in my transfer request (and before I was transfered), I looked into some of my old cases to find the perfect fence. There were a couple of possibilities, but Claire was definitely a winner. And Tony, well, he was a friend _and_ a defense attorney – knew I could trust him and I knew that he'd know the right kind of people to handle scrubbing the money.

I had started getting my strategy together when I got the transfer notice. And, to my surprise, Diana had asked for a transfer as well and we were partners once more. It was a good and bad thing – good because we worked well together and were friends, bad because Diana knew me better than anyone and I couldn't afford any complications at this point of the game.

But, everything was working out great. The heroin was going fast and the money was rolling in. Diana and I became... _more_ than partners at work. My life finally felt... good.

Then, when I went to Ashland Street to pick up the last of the dirty money from Claire, the little punk tried to double cross me. Of course, she wasn't very good at it. She had sold the last of the drugs – showed me the money even – and then threatened to go to the police if I didn't give her a bigger cut. Stupid, very stupid.

She wasn't too hard to get rid of. No one would have even noticed – except for Tony. Tony started getting anxious when Claire couldn't be found. I side-stepped his questions for as long as I could, but the man's a damn good lawyer. When I finally told him I had taken care of Claire, he got down-right panicked.

When he told me that he wanted to come clean – and, if effect, turn me in as well – I had no choice but to get rid of him.

It wasn't long after that that I started to get phone calls from Karen, Tony's wife. At first I tried to be a supportive and caring friend, but then she started insisting we talk in person – that she wanted to discuss something Tony had been rambling on about just before he died. I had no choice but to get rid of her, too.

Then, as luck would have it, I hear over my scanner that there is a big to-do going on at the Giles' house and that they have caught the _killer_ red-handed. Well, I was on my way to the station anyway, so I made sure to get there first and get put on the case.

I ran the name and found the perfect scapegoat. Seemed that the guy was wanted in St. Louis, though he was presumed dead. His kink was torturing and killing young women – and he was just found over the body of Karen Giles, weapon in hand.

But even a case that seems open and shut couldn't be so easy. This guy starts spouting off about ghosts and shape-shifters and all that kind of nonsense. Then, he mentioned Ashland Street.

I was too close to lose everything – I had to do something drastic. There was only one way out. The guy couldn't point the finger at someone else if he was dead. The only decision I had left was to make it look like he got away from me or to make it look like he tried to get away and I was forced to shoot him. Yeah, probably the latter – wraps things up nice and neat.

I was about to shoot him when Diana showed up with the guy's brother. Somehow she knew about Claire, Tony, Karen, the drugs – she knew it all and was pointing a gun at me. I thought I had talked her down, explained how everything could work out if we just followed my plan, but she shot me (in the leg) while I was taking my aim at the guy.

I got the drop on her again, had the gun and pointed it at her – but Diana didn't look at me. She was looking past me with wide open eyes. I didn't look at first, thought it was another trick, but then I heard the breathy gurgling. I turned around and came face to face with Claire. She was pale and the blood looked to still be flowing from her neck. She reached out to me...

Well, I'm told (by Claire) that I was shot in the back by Diana. I guess its what you girls would call _poetic_ or something – though I suppose a knife in my back would have been a little more appropriate.


	6. Crossroad BluesCroatoanHuntedPlaythin

_Hello there Olly. Long time, no see._

Well, if it isn't Miss Delia Cross! How have you been, sweetheart? Wait a minute – don't tell me... You haven't been sent back downtown, have you?

_Oh, Olly. That's so sweet of you to worry. But you and I both know that I wouldn't be here if that was the case. That's an express ticket – no stops along the way. Nope, I've still got my 'get out of jail free' card. Just taking a little time off to visit my favorite barkeeper._

You flatter me, Dee. But that's good to hear. Only, there was a bit of a rumor going around that you'd been summoned by a Winchester.

_Yes, that part's true. Almost got him to make a deal, though. Of course, he almost double-crossed me after. In the end, we were able to come to an agreement._

Lucky for you.

_Luck? Are you doubting my skills as a cross-roads deal-maker?_

'Course not, sweetheart. Hey, let me fix you a drink. You still a dirty martini girl?

_You better believe it._

That's what I thought. Nice to know _some_ things don't change. Speaking of... you've been top-side. What the blazes is going on up there these days? I've had plenty of business – and plenty of stories – lately but there haven't been so many about those Winchester boys.

_Well, as you know, things haven't been the same for them since daddy dearest became a permanent resident of the land down under. Not to mention a certain someone and His little devil-spawn wreaking havoc with their day-to-day. You heard about their demon-disease of course..._

Their what?

_Yeah, just a teensy evil virus that you-know-who cooked up. His son infected the better part of a town with it._

No.

_Yes indeed. All the little humans running around, infecting one another. Playing at being monsters... up until they died. Or were killed._

That's not His usual M.O.

_Or so it would seem. The whole point was to see if Sammy was as special as He thought. Bittie Sammy got himself infected like the rest._

But -

_Nope. Not dead. Seems baby Winchester is immune... just like all of His half-breeds. In fact, Sam lived to see another day – only to almost be killed by one of his own._

One of his own?

_Another hunter. I guess the kid isn't too popular on either side. What I've heard is that Sam left his brother, found another fence-straddler, and nearly got himself taken down by that Buffy wannabe Gordon Walker._

I thought there had been a lot more vampires in here than usual.

_Yep, seems the esteemed Mr. Walker has been taking out some of his frustrations on the fanged gang. Then, in a random act of exorcism, he found out about Sam's ties to the dark side. And, being a hunter, I guess he thought, "Hey, I've got a stone..."_

And up ahead I see two birds. Stone one – a hunter's duty is to kill all things evil... no matter how much is evil and how much is good.

_And stone two – revenge. Guess Gordo didn't like the boys stopping him from taking out the humanitarian-vamps._

oo0oo

- Author's Note -

Wow these stories have been difficult lately! It seems the monster-of-the-week has either not been killed (just dealt with – Crossroads demon, Yellow-eye's son, etc.) or, well, in the case of Maggie the Winchesters didn't really have a lot to do with it. After all, it was Rose who got her long-dead sister to leave Tyler alone. I'm guessing the kid is ready to move on (after a jump-rope session) now that she knows her sister doesn't hate her. None of these episodes have really had anyone who could come out and tell a story at Olly's!


	7. Nightshifter

_Number 7112, we're ready for you at the front. Hey, you look familiar..._

Yeah, I get that a lot.

_Have you been here before?_

No, but I think my cousin may have passed through... about a year ago? Its kind of sad really. The two of us used to be so close – best friends, even. But then we graduated and went our separate way. You know how it is.

My cousin had such big dreams about being a famous actor one day – totally had the skills, too. After graduation, well, I just worked a bunch of odd jobs. I really didn't have much ambition. I never really knew what I wanted to be.

Well, that's not true. I knew I wanted to be rich. The only problem was that I was never good enough at anything to make that happen.

From the day I was born, I was the definition of average. And growing up, too – always average height, average weight, average smarts, average looks. There was just nothing spectacular about me. I was destined to be just like everyone else. And, I hated it!

Now, like I said, my cousin and I used to be the best of friends. We tried to stay in touch for a while after graduation. Of course, neither of us were good at the whole pen-pal thing, and it didn't take long for the long distance phone calls to start getting expensive.

But, for that little bit of time while we were still keeping tabs on one another, 'Cuz called all excited about this audition. I didn't really understand since it seemed like it ended in disaster, but that was when I was told about _the gift_.

Now, I didn't believe it at first. I mean, really, who would? But, 'Cuz swore up and down that it happened – then, of course, came the dare that I had to totally try to do it too.

Apparently, _the gift_ runs in the family. _The gift _is the ability to transform yourself into anyone.

I practiced and practiced, like, all the time. Well, in my spare time anyway – while I wasn't working as a cashier at the supermarket or the night shift at the Cineplex concession stand. And after a while, I managed to start becoming people without having to study their faces. I could work from a quick glance, a photograph, even a memory.

That's how it happened with Arianna Craig – head cheerleader and prom queen of my old high school. I decided I was fed up with average and wanted to see how the prettier half lived. Then, I confidently walked into a jewelry store, right up to the case full of the most expensive items, and asked to try on the most gorgeous necklace full of emeralds and champagne diamonds. As I was admiring myself in the mirror, the owner of the shop came out, marveled at my amazing taste, and offered me a job right on the spot.

Funny thing was, he didn't seem to notice that the application I filled out was the exact same as the three I previously turned in to him. Yeah, just try and tell that looks don't matter!

Well, I quickly found out that the guy was a total sleaze ball. I mean, what else do you call a guy who has a wife and three kids at home and still hits on all the female workers... and a lot of the richer female customers? Not only that, he was having about a dozen affairs with some of the regular (and married) clients.

So, one night, I was working late with him and the night security guard when the guy up and leaves after being paged by a wealthy almost-widow. The security guard, guy named Larry, gave me all the dirt on the fine up-standing man of the community that owned the jewelry shop. By the time I locked up, I was totally sick to my stomach with all the stories I had just heard.

Now, maybe I had a bit of a soft-spot for Mrs. Dirt-bag and the kids. After all, my own poor mother had to suffer through an abusive, cheating husband as well – until a self-inflicted bullet to the head ended all that. But I figured, if I couldn't save Mom the heartache, maybe I could help Mrs. Dirt-bag out a little.

It actually felt kind of good to change out of my Arianna mask. It gave me the endorphin-rush that I needed to go through with my plan – which was, of course, to become the manager, let myself into the store, rob it blind, and then find a pawn-shop to hock the stuff.

I had to try so hard not to laugh when I got the call the next morning – _so sorry, shop is closed, manager arrested_... The jerk tried to deny having any part in the robbery, but his face was all over the untampered-with video surveillance at both the jewelry store and the pawn shop. It also made things difficult when his alibi denied being with him – after all, if the 34-year-old bimbo admitted to the affair, her 84-year-old husband would have totally written her out of his will.

I had plenty of money to get by on for awhile. But, once you're used to having the cash, its really hard to live when it gets low. Of course, living the high life included going to all the best places and it wasn't hard to find another low-life to take the fall.

After a couple more jobs, it started to get harder. It wasn't easy to weed out the jerks to set up on such quick notice. And there was also the problem with all of them pleading innocent. Sooner or later, I thought someone might get suspicious.

Then came the liquor store job. That one was a turning point. I chose the shop because 1) the old guy who owned it was a jerk, and 2) most customers paid in cash and the guy only made deposits once a week. I mean, he was totally asking to get robbed!

Actually, it turned out that he was. Well, he was planning to rob himself anyway, then torch the place. That way, he'd get a double payoff. He'd get all the cash and he'd be reimbursed by his insurance company for the loss of money, product, and building.

Long story short, I got there first, got all the money and even picked up an expensive bottle of Grand Marnier cognac. The following morning I saw what happened after I left on the news. They had film footage of the _owner_ robbing the place and then leaving, then coming back and getting upset and setting the place on fire while he calmly sat down behind the counter and just waited.

I really felt bad... for, like, a minute. That certainly made my life easier. And, that's how the new plan would go. I'd go in as a long-term employee, a never-in-a-million-years type, rob the place and then go _home_ and perform a little assisted-suicide.

Life was working out great... until _they_ showed up. It wasn't bad enough that some crazy security guard at the bank, Ronnie somebody, started asking a bunch of questions about the robbery and subsequent death of his apparently best friend Juan. No, then a couple of guys (admittedly hot guys) decide to come in and start playing detective – right in the middle of my recon!

I was able to escape being put in the vault with the other workers and customers, but these guys somehow knew that I was disguised as the bank manager. I changed masks in the nick of time, but things were getting out of control. One of the older guards started getting chest pains and I panicked – the two guys were going to let him out and I tried to offer to help, but they turned me down. What's worse, one of them asked me to _talk_ with him.

Don't know if you know this, but another part of _the gift_ is super-fast reflexes. I got past both guys and Ronnie, and managed to hide myself. The only problem was that everyone else was still in the vault and none of us were able to get out of the bank. And, the two hotties were still searching for me. I only had one brilliant plan left.

I had to act fast. I changed my appearance again just as the taller guy opened the door to the closet I was hiding in. I don't know if you ever seen a possum play dead before, but that little critter's got nothing on me. I fell limp and _bloody_ from the closet, with Sherry's face – the same girl that had been flirting with the two guys that had taken her hostage – the twit.

But, the guys had one final trick up their sleeves as well. Next thing I hear is Sherry screaming above me and then fainting. Listening to them talking, I thought I was finally home-free. There was no way they could believe Sherry was the real one – I was the one lying there apparently dead!

But I guess the police had finally gotten fed up and began bursting into the bank. I knew that I wouldn't get away from the police if they had Sherry and I both, and worse, what would happen if they started looking into my other crimes?

While the guys were distracted, I made my move. I grabbed the smaller guy and hit him a few times, then ran. Only, this time, he caught up to me. Super-fast speed can only do so much in hand-to-hand combat, and I had never really had to fight before. I held on for a while, but the dude stabbed me with a letter opener. A letter opener! Of all things...

Well, I guess that Dean Winchester is two-for-two with my family. Hope _he's_ happy with himself!


End file.
